


Hold me now, I can't help but want you

by manesalex



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/pseuds/manesalex
Summary: Michael gets the flu. Alex takes care of him.





	Hold me now, I can't help but want you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to my amazing beta and friend, [InsidiousIntent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/pseuds/InsidiousIntent).

Alex walks into the bedroom, tray in hand, and takes in the sight of his husband lying on his stomach, spread-eagled across the bed, wearing only a pair of blue boxers, faded and worn from too many washes. Alex would normally think Michael is trying to seduce him because he _has_ done this for exactly that reason before, but-

“I think I’m dying, Alex,” he whines, voice hoarse, followed by a couple coughs.

“You have the flu, Michael,” Alex explains patiently for at least the tenth time. “Drink some fluid, rest for a few days, and you’ll be fine.”

“No. I’m definitely dying,” Michael continues, lifting his head to look at Alex. He looks adorably pathetic, face flushed, sweaty curls sticking to his skin.

“Okay, Michael, you’re dying,” Alex humors him, sitting on the very edge of the bed and running his fingers up and down Michael’s spine gently. As always, Michael practically purrs, moving into his touch like a cat, desperate for affection. Alex knows Michael never had enough of it growing up and he’s still working on making sure he gives him enough now. And, really, he knows that this is what Michael’s complaints are about. He can suffer his way through the flu alone, has suffered through worse, but now he doesn’t _have_ to. Now he has someone who is present and cares enough to take care of him, who tries to pick up on what’s going on with him, who puts him first. He has Alex. And Alex knows he craves the kind of gentle touch given out of love.

“Feels good,” Michael breathes, eyes closing as he lays back down on the bed. He really is burning up, his alien body temperature already high. Now he has to be a few degrees warmer at least. “You’re so nice and cool.”

Alex frowns and reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing a glass of ice water, “Drink,” he orders, hoping the cold water will help Michael feel better. Help cool him down a bit.

“Don’t want to.” Michael’s face is buried in the comforter again, but Alex can hear the pout in his tone of voice.

“Michael, drink some water,” he repeats, tone firm.

“What do I get if I do it?” he asks hopefully.

Alex smiles at that and rolls his eyes fondly, “I am not having sex with you when you’re this sick, Guerin.”

“Mmm… Not that. Just stay?”

Alex melts a bit at the words. A couple of years ago, they would have stung, a reminder of all the ways he failed Michael. But now they’re good. Steady. They’ve committed to working their way through the arguments and misunderstandings, committed to fight for their relationship, their marriage, even through the hardest of times. He’s certain Michael knows he’s not going anywhere.

But he also knows that’s not what Michael really means, even if that’s the first thing he thinks of. Instead, he nods, “I’m already staying, Michael. Of course I’m not going to leave my husband to deal with his first flu on his own.”

“Not supposed to get them at all,” Michael whines.

“You don’t know that. We don’t know much about how alien biology works in that regard.” They don’t know almost anything, just that none of them have gotten the flu in the past. He is well aware that this strain could be something that affects them. Or maybe their immune system is strong enough to ward off quite a bit more than most _humans_. They know nothing, other than that Kyle checked Michael out and insisted that it was just the flu.

“Never got sick before,” Michael insists, like that alone will make it go away.

“Yeah, well, you’re almost never _around_ sick humans,” Alex points out. “Most certainly not insisting on trying to suck the flu out of them through their cocks.” He pauses, “At least I’d hope not.” He’s careful to keep his tone teasing.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Michael replies. “In fact, I seem to remember hearing you screaming my name, darlin’.”

Alex flushes. He wouldn’t complain about that. He’d never complain about Michael’s mouth on him, wherever he wanted to put it. It was amazing. _Epic_, like it always is between them. “Well, that’s probably why you got sick,” he says, refocusing his attention on the matter at hand.

“Worth it,” Michael replies. Alex looks down to find a sleepy smirk on his face.

“Drink some water, Michael. And then eat some soup,” he urges, gesturing to the bowl he just brought in. “And, once you’ve done both, then I’ll get into bed with you.”

Michael’s hand instantly shoots out to grab the glass, pulling the straw toward him and draining the glass in record speed, much to Alex’s amusement. He knows what Michael really wants and he knows he’ll never take much convincing to do what it takes to get it. And he knows Michael is well aware that he’d absolutely do it anyway and is just trying to help him.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Michael says as drags himself to sit up, working on the soup as Alex slowly removes his clothes.

He’s only in his boxers when Michael is finished eating. And, unsurprisingly, he’s eyeing Alex with interest, even though they both know he’s not truly feeling well enough for anything.

Alex sits down on the end of the bed and removes his prosthetic, leaning it against the bedside table. He slides his sock off and sets it on top of the leg and then waits for Michael to finish, taking the bowl from him when he’s done and setting it on the bedside table.

“Okay, now scoot over,” he prompts, moving to lay down next to his husband.

It’s not long until he has an over-heated, sweaty alien laying on top of him, snoring gently into his chest. And is that? Yes, it’s drool. He shakes his head gently, but pulls Michael closer, one hand wrapped around his back, the other combing through sweaty curls, well aware of how lucky he is to have this.


End file.
